<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>CHECK;PLEASE by seok_puppet</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083138">CHECK;PLEASE</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/seok_puppet/pseuds/seok_puppet'>seok_puppet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hockey, American setting, Bilingual Characters, Boo Seungkwan is Bitty, Boston, Checking Practice, College Hockey, Coming Out, Cooking, Everyone else is whoever I say they are, Food, Hockey, Jeon Wonwoo is Jack Zimmerman, M/M, SVT sports fest, characters speaking english with an accent, check please! au, food described in detail, ice hockey, physical sports, suspend your disbelief and pretend that Seungkwan DOESN'T wake up every day and choose violence, vlogging - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:48:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/seok_puppet/pseuds/seok_puppet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>International student Boo Seungkwan is dealing with a whole lot of new all at once. After switching from figure skating to ice hockey, he's still getting used to the ins and outs of a contact sport when he <i>hates</i> getting hit. Then there's moving to Boston, getting immersed in English and whatever language it is that hockey players speak (what, exactly, IS sick flow?), and his teammate Jeon Wonwoo, who maybe hates him.</p><p>And that's all before he falls in love with his team captain, making triangle kimbap, American barbecue, and iced Americanos!</p><p>A Check Please! AU for Match Point: The SVT Sports Fest</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Boo Seungkwan/Jeon Wonwoo, Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8, other pairings tbd/added as they appear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Match Point: The SEVENTEEN Sports Fic Fest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>CHECK;PLEASE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SVTSportsFest">SVTSportsFest</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So the original prompt got deleted but boy howdy am I determined to see this through! Although this is listed as a self-prompt, the original claim I had was:<br/><i>A Check Please! AU.</i><br/><i>I was really thinking of Seungkwan as Bitty and Wonwoo as Jack, but you can do whatever you want with it!</i> </p><p>So here we go!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Vlog #1</span>
</p><p>There are a few ambient noises and thumps before the hands around the lens move back and everything comes into focus. Seungkwan sits at his desk and frowns into the camera. </p><p>"Hello everyone. My name is Seungkwan Boo. I am from Korea." He looks relieved and then frowns again before switching into Korean. </p><p>"<i>My friends said I should start vlogging so that I get better at speaking in English but it just makes me nervous. When I first got my acceptance letter, I didn't think it was going to be a problem. I took English in high school and I passed the English test to come to America. But now I've been here for two days and I am overwhelmed.</i>" He pouts a little, mouth scrunching up, before sitting up straight and brightening. </p><p>"Hello everyone! My name is Seungkwan Boo!" This time, he says it with a big smile. "I am in America to play ice hockey! I pass the English test but I must practice!" Seungkwan rocks back on his dorm chair a moment, looking thoughtful and then smiling again. </p><p>"I learn to ice skate when I am..." He pauses and then holds a hand a few feet off the ground and then laughs. "No, I <i>learned</i> to ice skate when I was, mm, five." </p><p>Seungkwan leans forward on his desk now, hands cupped in his cheeks. The big smile dims a little and he looks more directly into the camera. "<i>I guess I can be honest since no one will see this channel except a few friends back home and they already know. I spent most of my sports career learning how to figure skate but there aren't a lot of scholarships for that. So, a few years ago, I changed paths. I wanted to come to the US because...well. I'm hoping things will be easier here for someone like me...</i>" </p><p>*</p><p>All of the school athletes were expected to be able to attend practice a month before the semester actually started. Mostly, this suited Seungkwan fine. He'd been eager to get to the States and start to learn the ins and outs of what was to be his new home for, at least, the next four years. Going into it, he'd felt pretty confident. Then he'd gotten to Boston Logan Airport and almost gotten lost between Customs and finding the van provided for international student athletes. </p><p>Moving in hadn’t been all that difficult. Mostly. Despite being told to ‘pack light,’ Seungkwan had definitely brought a few non-essentials that he began regretting on his second or third trip up the stairs to the fifth floor without an elevator. His dorm was a single, at least, so he didn’t have to deal with a roommate’s questioning gaze as he huffed and puffed up the stairs or as he unpacked the stuffed Pikachu he’d brought. </p><p>There were only a few other freshmen hockey players and Seungkwan was one of the only international athletes, period. An upperclassman was international too and he’d even sent Seungkwan a few kind emails, but he lived a house with some of the other hockey players. Through those emails, Seungkwan had learned that the hockey team had a surprising number of Korean-American students, in addition to himself and the alternate captain. He’d known there was a large Korean-American community in the area–it was one of the reasons he’d chosen this school–but to realize he’d be meeting them on the ice was sort of comforting.</p><p>The thought of a shared language and culture had buoyed him all the way to the first pre-season mixer, where he'd immediately sought out Jeon Wonwoo. Not that he was hard to find. Wonwoo stood apart from the main party, away from the cluster of hockey players who were talking to Seungkwan in a mix of Korean and English that made his head spin a little. </p><p>"<i>Hello, are you Jeon Wonwoo? I think we emailed once or twice? When I got accepted to the team? Because you speak Korean.</i>" The words came out in a breathless, nervous rush but he thought he'd managed not to embarrass himself. </p><p>Then the silence stretched out between them. </p><p>Jeon Wonwoo gave Seungkwan an inscrutable look that made him feel like he was being x-rayed. It seemed like a full minute of silence had passed between them before Wonwoo spoke and told Seungkwan, in perfect English, "You need to eat more protein." </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Vlog #2</span>
</p><p>Seungkwan fidgets at his desk in front of the camera, mouth pursed until his eyes flick down and he sees on his screen that he's pouting. Again, he makes himself sit up straight but can't quite muster up the same energy. "I think the second captain want to kill me," he laments, his mouth threatening to scrunch again. "He thinks I am small and says eat more protein always." </p><p>Seungkwan rolls his eyes and switches to Korean. "<i>I'm not sure when I'm supposed to have time to eat more protein! We get up at five in the morning for drills and practice for hours! And I’m serious, I think the captain hates me!</i>"</p><p>Groaning, Seungkwan slumps forward on his desk, face near the camera. “<i>Yesterday, they ran drills on checking. It wasn’t pretty.</i>” </p><p>*</p><p>It wasn't like Seungkwan wasn't aware of the physical risks of ice hockey. He may have joined the sport relatively late but he still knew that it would be a contact sport at the college level. Still, he didn't like the idea of getting checked. He'd seen plenty of game footage where smaller wingers–like himself–were sent flying by a bad hip check. Falling was one thing; he'd fallen all the time as a figure skater. Falling after being bodyslammed into the boards and plexiglas? That was something else entirely. </p><p>That didn’t make his performance the day before any less embarrassing. He’d crumpled on the ice with his hands over his head, stick nowhere to be seen. </p><p>But today was a new day, right? Seungkwan was determined not to let yesterday get the worst of him. He was only a freshman, so surely they wouldn't expect–</p><p>A turquoise and white blur sped toward him and instinct took over. One second, Seungkwan was upright and ready to take the pass. The next, he was hunched up on the ice in the fetal position, checks flushing so red he thought he might melt the ice. The confused English flowing over him didn't help anything. He could hear some of the D-men saying they could probably make a play out of this and the words "Fainting Goat" on someone's lips, possibly the captain to make things worse. The only voice he didn't hear, which was only so much of a relief, was the measured and even tones of the alternate captain. </p><p>Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he and Jeon Wonwoo had exchanged any more words since the "Eat More Protein" incident when they met a week ago. </p><p>It wasn't all bad, but it wasn't great either. Seungkwan only righted himself when the crowd pushed back and he sent an apologetic look over to the coach and to the team captain, Choi Seungcheol. </p><p>"Boo, go take the bench. Get your head on straight." Seungcheol's words weren't spoken unkindly but they stung all the same. One week and he'd already embarrassed himself. It was hard not to catastrophize, to imagine the rest of the team and the coaches deciding that he just wasn't worth it. That would get him kicked from the team and then he'd lose his scholarship and he wasn't going to make it through even one semester without the sports scholarship, so it would be back to Jeju with him. </p><p>He couldn't go back to Jeju. Seungkwan knew, vividly, that coming to the States wasn't going to solve all of his problems but it was so much easier to be the kind of person he wanted to be in the United States. And if that meant giving up figure skating in favor of another sport with better scholarships and opportunity, well so be it. It was why he'd given up any hope of Sochi, Pyeongchang, or Beijing gold and focused on Boston, on a university with an international reputation but only an ice hockey program. If he kept crumpling like this, all of that would slip through his fingers.</p><p>The possibility turned his stomach. </p><p>Seungkwan shook his head. "I can skate," he said, fumbling the English and then giving over to Korean. "<i>I swear.</i>" He was going to have to get past this block, yes, but he could skate. They'd just need to find a way around the issue of getting bodily checked across the ice. One of his advantages was his speed after all. All of his high school coaches had commended him on it. All he'd need to do was evade the checks and tackles. "I can skate," he repeated. </p><p>One of the starting defensemen was looking contemplatively at Seungkwan, his chin resting on the end of his hockey stick. "I still think we can make a play out of this," he said brightly. If anything, he looked positively eager to try it out. "NCT U won't know what hit them!" </p><p>"Goose, that is the stupidest fucking idea I've ever heard," the other defenseman said. "The other players' blades would shred him. Or they'd just use him as a puck." He skated over to look at Seungkwan, brushing long hair back from his face (he had been informed by one of the other players that Jeonghan was famous for his 'sick flow' and it had taken him a long time to understand that meant his hair). </p><p>"I will skate," Seungkwan promised. "No more fainting goats."  </p><p>"Goat," one of the other wingers corrected. The back of his jersey said Kwon but everyone seemed to call him Hoshi and Seungkwan had given up completely on learning the logic of hockey nicknames. Cheollie and Hannie were one thing but he still couldn't parse how Joshua Hong had become Goose. Seungkwan had passed the test for English, after all, not...whatever this language was.</p><p>Hoshi–Soonyoung–reached out a hand and pulled Seungkwan to his feet. “You skate fast and smart. You’ll make a good winger.” It felt like the first time anyone had expressed actual confidence in him and Seungkwan tried not to let it show how grateful he was. </p><p>With a toothy grin, he reached out and clapped Seungkwan on the shoulder. "We should run speed drills, anyway," Soonyoung said in the direction of the captain. "None of us are going to turn out to be giants in one practice. We'll work on checks later, yeah?"</p><p>"Easy for you to say, you damn hurricane." Seungcheol reached out and gave Hoshi's hair an affectionate ruffle. "I cannot wait until Woozi gets back to corral you." Soonyoung’s and Seungcheol's grins were equally wide, making the joke clear. </p><p>Woozi was yet another nickname that no one had bothered to clarify for him. All that Seungkwan knew of the team manager was that he was studying abroad for the semester and that he could drink every single team member under the table. The other members spoke of him fondly, like Seungkwan should already know him. It was another reminder that he wasn’t really one of them yet.</p><p>The hockey team was already such a well-oiled machine and here was Seungkwan, one of the only freshmen, and by far the one who was most challenged by the sport. It made him uncomfortably aware of all the ways he stuck out. It scared him too, leaving him to wonder if the obvious ways he was different translated to all the invisible parts of himself he kept hidden.</p><p>There were things he’d have to tell the team eventually, especially with all the talk of house parties and dates, but it wasn't like he could just burst out with the information right away. They'd only just met him–and one of them already seemed to outright hate him–so Seungkwan just had to keep his mouth shut and get along. Right? He couldn’t just show up and be loud and proud from day one. Not if he didn’t want to get shoved into a locker or something. </p><p>"We'll run speed drills after breakfast," Seungcheol said, using the end of his stick to point to the large clock at the other end of the rink. "Dining hall's open by now so we need to eat. Especially you, Jeonghan." He jabbed his friend in the side. </p><p>Jeonghan, maturely, stuck his tongue out at him. "We don't all have to be goons to run defense." He tossed his head and flicked his ponytail like that proved a point and then skated over toward the bench, gesturing for the others to follow. </p><p>Seungkwan followed but only slowly, bringing up the very end of the line, head down. The team were friendly enough but he still definitely wasn't one of them. Having to translate everything in his head before he could respond to anything didn't help. </p><p>He was the slowest to change, hoping that everyone would be gone by the time he slumped out of the room. No luck. Wonwoo was leaned against the wall by the door, apparently waiting for him. “You need to eat.”</p><p>He didn’t <i>say</i> anything but Seungkwan couldn’t have read his thoughts more clearly if he was psychic. <i>Do better.</i> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Vlog #3</span>
</p><p>Seungkwan is slumped over at his desk, face in his hands as he groans. "I cannot believe...You are kidding me!" he sputters behind his hands. He sits up long enough to point at the setting sun through his window. "I have been awake since before <i>that</i> comes up! Because Jeon Wonwoo..." He ruffles agitated hands through his hair and then stares into the camera. </p><p>"<i>Jeon Wonwoo dragged me out at four this morning for checking drills. I didn't even know how he got into my dorm."</i> He pauses and fidgets on his chair, clearly biting back on some melodramatic plea to the gods. </p><p>"<i>Okay, that's not true. I know he got in because they don't lock the buildings for keycard access until the real beginning of the semester. Which I need to remember because I don't want to get locked out. Can you imagine? Having to beg strangers for help in English because I forgot my student ID? I'm pretty sure I would combust on the spot. They'd have to gather up my ashes and have them pressurized to form a hockey puck.</i>" </p><p>He laughs at his own joke and then sighs before reaching for something just beyond the edge of the screen. "I drink <i>so much</i> coffee today," he says, giving his iced Americano a quick shake in front of the camera. "Ice hockey. Ice coffee. I am going to freeze soon." Seungkwan takes a long sip and then takes a deep breath, launching into his story.</p><p>"<i>So, at four o'clock this morning! Wonwoo just showed up at my dorm, banging on the door...</i>"</p><p>*</p><p>In the aftermath, Seungkwan would still have a hard time choosing what the worst part of this was. Being at the rink at half-past four was a top contender, but not the only one. He still had to contend with the fact that Jeon Wonwoo had seen him in a matching pink, cat-printed pajama set that had been handed down from one of his sisters.  And <i>then</i> there was the unintelligible mumbling, not quite English nor Korean, but some amalgamated language only understood by the half asleep. </p><p>“Get dressed.” Something cold was pressed into his hands and it took him several seconds too long to realize that he was holding an iced coffee. “I brought you an Americano.” </p><p>“Why?” Seungkwan groaned the question, even as he shuffled backward toward his chest of drawers. The sky outside was dark, not even a sliver of daylight to indicate the time. Fumbling, he turned his phone over and glared as the numbers 3, 5, and 4 blinked into view. No combination of them was acceptable as far as he was concerned. </p><p>Wonwoo leaned against Seungkwan’s closed door, cocking his head expectantly. It was only now dawning on Seungkwan that he was in pink pajamas and he was too busy being embarrassed of that to remember to be embarrassed that Wonwoo could see him changing. Even in the locker room, Seungkwan tended to keep his back turned when he dressed. </p><p>“<i>We’re going to the rink</i>,” he said it in Korean, then repeated it in English. Seungkwan groaned. There wasn’t even a scheduled practice today. There was no reason. He tried to convey this, and his displeasure, but Wonwoo had none of it.</p><p>It turned out there was a reason and it was worse than he could have previously imagined. </p><p>- - - </p><p>“<i>Okay, you just need to square up, get your balance and–</i>”</p><p>“<i>STOP!</i> Nope! Stop!” Seungkwan yelled his appeals in both Korean and English, with enough vehemence and volume that Wonwoo actually did stop, their shoulders bumping together. When no check actually came, Seungkwan let his knees give out and he sank to the ice, back up against the boards. </p><p>Wonwoo was staring at him in what Seungkwan assumed was mostly horror. “<i>I barely touched you,</i>” he said. “<i>I wasn’t even going fast.</i>” He gestured at himself, in his track pants and hoodie. He wasn’t even wearing pads. </p><p>All of those facts made Seungkwan feel worse, flinching when Wonwoo skated closer. He relaxed, in tiny increments, when Wonwoo sank down against the boards right next to him, not minding the ice. Wonwoo turned and put a hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder. “<i>You are a good skater. You’re fast and you have a good dynamic with Soonyoung.</i>”</p><p>It didn’t escape Seungkwan’s notice that Wonwoo didn’t say <i>they</i> had a good dynamic. He’d seen Wonwoo and Soonyoung skate. <i>Those</i> two were teammates, to the core. </p><p>“<i>I get that you’re nervous. You’re in a new place and it’s a lot of new people. But you have good instincts on the ice,</i>” Wonwoo continued. “<i>If you can handle the checking, then you have a real chance on this team.</i>” </p><p>Why the hell was he being so nice, Seungkwan wanted to ask. Before this morning, they’d never had a proper conversation. He knew that Wonwoo had seen him skate; he was alternate captain in name only. The truth was, he and Seungcheol were practically the same entity once the playbook was open. Jeon Wonwoo knew how everyone skated. It was unspoken that once Seungcheol graduated, there’d be no “alternate” in front of his rank. He would be the captain everyone respected him as. </p><p>Reaching out, Wonwoo took Seungkwan’s arm and eased back into a stand. “We keep trying,” he said, eyes dark and sober and focused unnervingly on him. </p><p>“For how long.” </p><p>“<i>As long as it takes,</i>” he said, all intensity. Then his face softened. “<i>But actually, the high school hockey team has practice at seven.</i>” </p><p>Seungkwan looked up at the windows that gave the ice rink a view onto the campus grounds. The skies were only beginning to streak pink and blue but seven didn’t actually seem so far away. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Vlog #4 </span>
</p><p>Seungkwan stares glumly into the camera, Pikachu clutched to his chest, shoulders pointedly down. “Classes started,” he says. “And I am dying.” Despite himself, he smiles, because he’s pretty sure he got the verb tense right that time and everything. All it took was sheer misery and impending academic doom. But then his smile perks right back up. </p><p>“<i>But the game! We’ve had our first game. I got some ice time before in scrimmages but this was the first time I that I really got to play and–and!</i>” Seungkwan beams even wider. “I got an assist!” </p><p>Reaching behind his computer, Seungkwan grabs two pens, one in each hand. “This is me. And highlighter is the D-Man! I’m here and he comes…” Seungkwan swings the highlighter toward the much smaller pen to demonstrate. “And I go, oh no! Oh my <i>God</i>! So danger! You so danger! <i>But!</i>” </p><p>Grinning even wider, Seungkwan uses his fingers to rotate the pen as he circles it out of the way of the highlighter. “But then! I get my brain and I <i>spin!</i> I spin and get the puck and hit to Wonwoo and he <i>scores!</i>” In his excitement, Seungkwan throws up his hands, releasing both pen and highlighter into the air, too happy to care. </p><p>“I love hockey!”</p><p>- - - </p><p>Seungkwan didn’t completely remember <i>how</i> he got to the post-game house party. It was some combination of walking and being carried by the d-men that got him to 1717 Diamond Street, better known as the Carat Haus, where most of the upperclassmen on the hockey team lived. By the time he got there, barely out of his hockey gear, the bass was already pumping out of the house and the poor house (Haus?) looked as if it was already in danger of splitting at its worn seams. It was one thing, occasionally dropping by during the day before practice. This was like the old Victorian’s evil, drunk twin. </p><p>He’d heard American parties in college were crazy but he still wasn’t ready for this. </p><p>“Welcome, freshman,” Jeonghan cackled as he pitched Seungkwan forward toward the door. </p><p>To keep from falling, Seungkwan had to sort of hop-run into the front room, right into the thick of the growing party. He stopped just short of crashing into someone he didn’t know before Joshua and Jeonghan snagged him, arm in arm, toward a battered air hockey table. Other team members crowded in, slapping him on the back and ruffling his hair. It was so overwhelming that he didn’t realize for a second that they were congratulating him. Mingyu, the goalie, had him in a bear hug for a second there. </p><p>“Check you out,” Hoshi–Soonyoung–said, wiggling his way into the crush. “I told them! I told them you were a winger! That goal! Here!” He took off his brand-new school snapback and crushed it onto Seungkwan’s head where it sat lopsided but proud. </p><p>“The hat has been passed!” someone shouted. “Seungkwan Boo! First freshman to help score!” </p><p>“It is time!” The evil tone of voice did not match Joshua’s angelic face. “Bring forth…<i>The Carat Bong!</i>” </p><p>Seungkwan found himself lifted onto the table while Jeonghan cut through the crowd with an oversized beer funnel in his hands. “First freshman to get a point gets first Carat Bong! Drink!” </p><p>All of the attention was on him and Seungkwan could see dubious-looking alcohol being poured into the funnel. Around him, the partygoers took up a chant of his name, mostly involving the word <i>DRINK</i> over and over again. </p><p>The rest of the party passed in a blur after that and Seungkwan woke up in a reclined armchair. His mouth tasted of unknown combinations and unholy amounts of alcohol. His whole body was sore from playing, partying, and probably the chair. Someone had draped a blanket over him, which Seungkwan tried to pull over his head with a groan. </p><p>The Pledis U snapback was still on his head and, despite his aching head and body, Seungkwan grinned. </p><p>- - - </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Vlog #5</span>
</p><p>Seungkwan stares into the camera, rubbing the side of his face with one hand. It does nothing to reduce the dark circles beneath his eyes. The dorm’s chest of drawers is visible in the background, the top littered with empty plastic coffee cups that match the iced Americano currently in his other hand. If he tipped his head forward, the university hat on his head would hide his eyes entirely.</p><p>“I am roadkill,” he declares. Seungkwan takes a long drink of his coffee and sighs out, rocking from side to side in his chair before getting comfortable. “<i>The school term is only getting tougher. I’m tired but it’s okay. The team help me a lot, especially with English. The reading isn’t even hard but it’s so much.</i>” </p><p>Another sigh. “<i>Probably it would be easier if I could just…you know? Say what’s on my mind. But I feel like I’m holding my breath all the time. Either I’m translating everything before I say it or I </i>know<i> what I mean but I’m scared to actually let it out. The team is supposed to be a brotherhood but it’s still hard, being different and coming out has never gone well for me, back home…</i>”</p><p>- - - </p><p>When the Haus’ air hockey table wasn’t being used as a sacrificial altar to the gods of alcohol abuse, it was a pretty good place to study. Someone was almost always home to let him in and pull up a plastic chair for him to join them. Tonight, he had his laptop balanced on the edge of the table while Wonwoo and Seungcheol moved vinyl Pop figures around to come up with strategy. Everyone had an assigned figure, though Seungkwan wasn’t completely sure who was who. He had a sneaking suspicion that the newer-looking Monsters, Inc. figure might be him and had done his best not to pay attention since. </p><p>“Coach wants to put you and Boo on the starting line with Hoshi,” Seungcheol said, moving Boo in her monster costume to the left wing and Boba Fett to center front. Seungkwan tried to act like he didn’t understand but he couldn’t help but react to his name, eyes flicking up to Wonwoo and then Seungcheol, who immediately looked back at him. </p><p>Seungcheol, realizing that he’d been understood, gave them both an easy grin. “You worked great with Hoshi, last game.” </p><p>The praise was faint and straightforward but it still put a warm, flippy kind of feeling in his stomach. At least until he saw Wonwoo’s expression. There wasn’t much to read in his blank face but Seungkwan could see a definite downturn at the corners of his mouth as he looked determinedly at the figurines and not the people they stood in for. Nothing was said and Wonwoo didn’t actually adjust any of the figures but Seungkwan felt the need to squirm away from the table, making some excuse about a glass of water. </p><p>Somehow, this was the first time he’d been in the Haus kitchen and it was exactly as devastating as could be expected. Most of the counter space was given over to beer and protein bars while a single, lonely rice cooker sat in the middle of the table. It was the only thing that looked like it might have seen any service. Opening the fridge revealed four tubs of kimchi, two eggs, and a stick of butter that someone had taken a bite out of. <i>Revolting</i>. </p><p>Through the kitchen door, he could hear Seungcheol and Wonwoo talking. From their tone, he thought they weren’t quite arguing but it was something that might erupt into arguing. And it seemed to be about him. The time to get and drink a glass of water wasn’t going to be time enough for that to peter out, so he lingered at the kitchen table, pressing the release button on the rice cooker. The lid flipped gently up and Seungkwan clicked it back into place.</p><p>Someone would probably want rice, right?</p><p>The rice, for reasons unknown, was stored under the sink but seemed okay. Seungkwan ran it under water, swirling it a few times and watching the cloudy water blossom upwards before rinsing it out. By the time it was in the cooker and the correct setting pressed, he could still hear a “discussion” going and stayed in the kitchen, puttering around…</p><p>“Dude, did you make <i>kimbap!?</i>” </p><p>Seungkwan jumped nearly out of his own skin and then looked between Mingyu, in the doorway, and then the tabletop in front of him. Yes, apparently, he had. No one was using the kitchen and he still got caught red handed. “Sorry. <i>I completely zoned out and just…started to cook.</i>”</p><p>Mingyu laughed and sat himself down. “Not complaining.” His hand hovered above the food but he looked up at Seungkwan, waiting for permission. As soon as he got the nod, Mingyu stuffed one piece into his mouth, whole. It was just kimbap, made from the dregs of the Haus fridge, but Seungkwan still waited, breath held, for Mingyu’s response. </p><p>“Shit, Boo, that’s amazing. <i>Can you just do this all the time?</i>” Before Seungkwan could answer, Mingyu turned toward the door. “Yo, Minghao!” </p><p>A slender man with bottle-auburn hair poked his head in. Seungkwan didn’t know him personally, though he’d heard Minghao’s name a few times. Mingyu beckoned him over, crooking a finger in the air, and then handed him a slice. “Try this.” </p><p>Minghao leaned forward and ate the kimbap out of Mingyu’s fingers without a second of hesitation. Like Mingyu, he chewed and swallowed and then looked at Seungkwan, giving him a smile and a thumbs up. “This is probably the best thing anyone who’s not Mingyu has ever made in this kitchen,” he said. Then he tilted his head and poked Mingyu in the shoulder. “Actually, most of the time, you’re outside on the grill. You should keep him.” </p><p>“He’s our new winger, he’s going to stay,” Mingyu said, looking at Seungkwan with a big smile, as if it was already decided. </p><p>“Good,” Minghao said. Apparently that was that. </p><p>Bemused by the interaction, Seungkwan brought the plate out to Seungcheol and Wonwoo, who had left off strategy in favor of Mortal Kombat. He waited until Seungcheol’s Mileena was done absolutely shredding Wonwoo’s Kung Lao to pieces before offering the food. </p><p>“<i>Don’t tell me to eat more protein,</i>” Seungkwan warned. “<i>I made this with only what was in your fridge.</i>” </p><p>Wonwoo’s big smile caught him completely off-guard and Seungkwan almost jumped out of his skin for the second time that night. “<i>We’ll make Mingyu cook bulgogi next time.</i>” Behind him, Seungcheol nodded, smiling with a closed-mouth, one cheek bulged out like a chipmunk. </p><p>“I go back to the dorm now,” Seungkwan said. It was getting dark and his dorm was a not-insignificant walk from Carat Haus. He popped the last kimbap into his mouth and put away his laptop. </p><p>On his way out, he meant to enter the kitchen to drop off the plate but he never got further than the door. Mingyu and Minghao probably wouldn’t even have noticed him, even if he came in. They were totally in their own world. Minghao was perched up on the counter, head nearly even in height with Mingyu’s so they could kiss properly. Watching them for a second too long, Seungkwan felt both total embarrassment and also giddy excitement, before ducking away and leaving the plate by the coat rack. </p><p>They’d find it. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Vlog #6</span>
</p><p>The dorm is a little cleaner this time, all the scattered plastic cups thrown away and the bed made. Seungkwan, too, looks a little tidier as he drinks a protein shake while adjusting the camera. Despite the improved environment, there’s a distinct frown on his face. </p><p>“Family weekend,” he says glumly. Seungkwan glances at his open window, face illuminated by the bright afternoon sun. The camera can’t pick up the sound he hears but there’s no mistaking the wistfulness on his face. “Everyone is busy. And I...” Seungkwan holds up his protein shake in one hand and his textbook in the other. </p><p>“<i>I knew it wasn’t going to happen. My mom told me they can’t afford it, but I was still hoping, somehow, they’d surprise me.</i>” Seungkwan gives a heavy sigh. “This is the most I am away from my family. Ever. Almost everyone else comes.”</p><p>But not his family. </p><p>“<i>Most of the team are from the state or not far away. That and Americans are crazy and think a twelve-hour drive to visit and watch a hockey game is ‘no big deal.’ But I–</i>”</p><p>There’s a sharp rap on the door and Seungkwan jumps. Someone calls out from behind the door, inaudible to the camera, but it has Seungkwan reaching out to turn the camera off. His call of “One second!” is the last thing the camera catches. </p><p>- - - </p><p>“Who were you talking to, anyway?” Mingyu asked, an arm slung around Seungkwan’s shoulders. Up ahead of them, Mingyu’s younger sister and parents were strolling over the quad with practiced familiarity, having visited last year too. </p><p>Seungkwan flushed. “No one. <i>I film videos for my friends in Korea. I don’t know if they watch anymore though. Because the…the…</i>” He frowns. “Time span.”</p><p>It wasn’t the right phrase but Mingyu nodded anyway. “Oh, the time difference! It’s got to be the worst, right?” He grinned and kept going before Seungkwan could state the obvious. “I remembered you said your family couldn’t come, so my parents said to grab you. They love all the hockey bros.” </p><p>“I am a bro?” Technically, if anyone was the bro, it would be Mingyu, but none of the other team members bothered with honorifics in any of the languages they spoke. He’d heard Wonwoo say it to someone on the phone once but with the semester three quarters of the way through, they definitely were not on hyung-dongsaeng terms. He liked to think that things were <i>better</i> after the kimbap incident but that wasn’t the same as good. </p><p>Mingyu grinned widely and nodded. “Hockey is, like, the bro-est sport on campus. But don’t tell the lacrosse team that.” </p><p>Seungkwan didn’t know anyone on the lacrosse team, so he couldn’t imagine that being an issue. His entire social circle was the hockey team plus a few other international students from orientation. </p><p>“Oh yes, manly,” Seungkwan said, miming a punch. It was a pale imitation of the one that Jeonghan had landed on the opposing defenseman from UMass last week. It had been shocking to realize just how much he and Joshua actually could actually dish out, even as the official d-men. </p><p>Mingyu giggled and patted Seungkwan on the shoulder, speeding up his pace just enough that Seungkwan had to jog a little to keep apace. Damn Mingyu’s long legs. “Yeah,” Mingyu agreed. “We’re so manly we kiss other men.” </p><p>The words were spoken so casually, as if they didn’t mean anything, but Seungkwan nearly ate pavement, tripping over his own two feet. His eyes must have been the size of dinner plates and he began to mentally recalculate the last few weeks since he’d seen Mingyu and Minghao in the kitchen. Had he done anything to indicate he saw? Seungkwan didn’t <i>think</i> so. He’d tried to act as if this was totally normal because, well, shouldn’t it be? It wasn’t as if he was in any position to judge. </p><p>“<i>I heard you on your way out. Hao and I are together. The whole team knows, except the freshmen, I guess</i>.” Mingyu’s tone of voice was a little less warm now, more even, like he was trying to be neutral and not give anything away. Except that Mingyu communicated everything. Seungkwan could see the twist of his eyebrows, the slight purse of his mouth, the way Mingyu kept his eyes deliberately forward on his family. He telegraphed his need for Seungkwan not to be an asshole.</p><p>Or maybe it was just that Seungkwan had spent so much time worrying about the same things. </p><p>“<i>They don’t mind?</i>” </p><p>Mingyu’s smile was so obviously careful that it made Seungkwan squirm a little. “We might be bros, but we’re not douchebags. They don’t mind. I’m not the only queer person on the team, either.” </p><p>There it was again, that giddy flip sensation in his stomach. This feeling was particularly warm, like a hot air balloon rising out of Seungkwan’s stomach, gently expanding, full of color. The first time he’d felt this particular sensation was when he’d received his college acceptance to this school. His parents hadn’t understood why Seungkwan wanted to go to the States so badly and he’d given a lot of reasons, excuses, that had nothing to do with Pledis University being one of the top-rated LGBTQ-friendly campuses in the division. </p><p>“You are not?” </p><p>“Nope,” Mingyu said, popping the last consonant like gum. “<i>But that’s not for me to tell.</i> I just want me and you to be good.” </p><p>Seungkwan nodded. He could understand that.</p><p>“<i>Does it get easier, saying that kind of thing?</i>”</p><p>“Coming out?” Mingyu said it in English, within earshot of his parents, something that made Seungkwan’s eyes go wide all over again once he translated it in his head. “<i>I trust my family. And my team</i>.” Mingyu looked pointedly at Seungkwan and he realized that he was being trusted with something. </p><p>“<i>I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell the team all semester,</i>” he admitted. There had been so many things about himself he’d had to introduce to people he barely knew and there never felt like a good time. Was he supposed to come out on the first day and let that be his first impression? At the time, not knowing any of the team, it had felt like the kind of choice that would get him thrown into a dumpster. And then after that, as time had passed, he’d wondered how to just…add it into the conversation, figure out who was safest to tell first.</p><p>Apparently, it was Mingyu. </p><p>Mingyu’s face went pensive, but not angry. “So, me first?” </p><p>“First person ever,” Seungkwan said. </p><p>Mingyu smiled and gave Seungkwan’s hair a ruffle. “Come on, they have American barbecue. Ever had it before?” </p><p>And the world didn’t end. Lightning didn’t strike. He told someone and that person accepted it. And Seungkwan tried American ribs for the first time. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Vlog #7</span>
</p><p>The image of Seungkwan is grainy, his face illuminated only by the artificial light of the screen. The window, still open, lets in only the faintest streak of light. Without a word, Seungkwan holds up his phone to show the time: 5:45 AM. </p><p>“Game tonight,” he says. “Lots of team family. I cannot sleep but nothing to do.” </p><p>Seungkwan scowls into the camera. “<i>I can’t believe I’m about to say this but</i>,” he holds up a pair of sneakers. “<i>I don’t know what else to do. So I’m going for a run, without a teammate or a coach telling me to. I am disgusted with myself</i>.” </p><p>- - - </p><p>If he spent any more time at the rink, they were going to store him in the equipment locker. The ice rink had just been a natural port of call, even though it would be another twelve hours before the game started. Seungkwan didn’t go in, just jogged laps around the perimeter of the building until he exhausted the worst of his nervous energy. </p><p>Tonight’s game was supposed to be the same as any other, especially when he didn’t have family here to impress, but so many of his teammates did and Seungkwan didn’t want to let them down. Lately, there were more moments where he felt part of the team than an outsider but those moments did still exist. Sometimes, he’d catch Wonwoo observing him in practice or he’d make some comment or, worse, a total <i>lack</i> of comment and Seungkwan felt like he was back at that pre-semester mixer. </p><p>And last night, Mingyu had <i>trusted</i> him. How could Seungkwan run the risk of ruining tonight for everyone? </p><p>Taking a deep breath in, Seungkwan decided on one more lap. That, a good stretch, and a hot shower would take care of the nerves and he’d catch a nap before the game. </p><p>Head down, he rounded a corner, stopping short when he heard a familiar voice. </p><p>“<i>No, no, Appa. I want you to come, really</i>.” Wonwoo sat on the low cement fence in front of the rear door of the ice rink. His head was bent so far down that Seungkwan couldn’t see his face, completely hidden by his own Pledis U snapback. “<i>I’m going to play. You know my anxiety isn’t a big deal. And you’re not going to cause a problem either!</i>" His voice pitched up then and then Wonwoo cut himself off. “<i>Sorry, Appa. Sorry. I should go. But I’ll see you tonight.</i>”</p><p>Wonwoo dropped his phone in his hoodie pocket and then his face into his hands. It did nothing to muffle the emphatic way he said, “<i>Fuck.</i></p><p>There was no way to just continue on his run now. Wonwoo would know that Seungkwan had heard him and had understood what was being said. So, he cleared his throat to get Wonwoo to look up at him. The look on his face was mildly devastating; Wonwoo’s mouth was pressed tightly closed and there were shadows under his eyes. Even in the pale after-dawn light, his face looked pallid. </p><p>“You heard that?” he asked. </p><p>Seungkwan nodded, fiddling with one of the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Are you okay?” </p><p>“I’m <i>fine</i>.” Wonwoo didn’t quite snap but there was a distinct hint in his tone that suggested it was a near thing. He seemed to catch himself, because he sighed. “<i>I’m fine. I’m always nervous until I get on the ice. I’ve dealt with it for years.</i>” </p><p>“<i>That doesn’t sound very fun.</i>”</p><p>Wonwoo’s mouth ticked up. It was a small smile, but a real one. “<i>It’s not. It got bad a few years ago. If you Google me, you’d see all about it.</i>”</p><p>Seungkwan fidgeted uncomfortably. “<i>I haven’t! I wouldn’t! Should I?</i>” Although Wonwoo was the school’s top player and Seungkwan had seen his on-ice talent for himself, everyone always talked about him like there’d never been a Jeon Wonwoo before college. Like he had just materialized at Carat Haus the day before his freshman year. </p><p>Wonwoo shook his head. “<i>Unbelievable, I thought you knew. My dad’s a hockey player too. Made the Olympic team back in the day. It’s a lot to live up to.</i>”</p><p>“<i>And he’s coming tonight?</i>” </p><p>Wonwoo nodded. “<i>It’s a lot to live up to.</i>” </p><p>Seungkwan huffed and stuck his nose in the air, playing the part of someone more theatrical and confident. “<i>I think you’re just fine. You’re the best player here. So there!</i>” Maybe he was a little bit too familiar in his tone but he meant it. They might not be the greatest of friends but everyone knew just how good of a player Wonwoo was. </p><p>Fake or not, the confidence made Wonwoo smile. He eased off the cement wall and walked over, clapping a hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder. “We should eat,” he said in English. “Especially you.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, eat more protein,” Seungkwan huffed. “Always more protein.”</p><p>Surely, he’d heard Wonwoo laugh before but it was something else, watching the man throw his head back and laugh, his own words turned against him. </p><p>- - - </p><p>NCT U’s team had a reputation for aggressive, forward play that had gotten Seungkwan anxious before even walking out of the locker room. In the first period, he’d seen that it was well-earned. Like his own team, they used momentum and fast turns to back up their hits. Their defensemen were the biggest players, with one of them <i>almost</i> matching Mingyu in height, and they used it to their advantage. It left Pledis’ offensive line scrambling for the puck and their own defense playing catch up. </p><p>By the end of the second period, Seungcheol looked exhausted as he looked between his players and their own. Jeonghan looked mostly serene but Seungkwan sensed a desire to personally murder whoever was dancing around in that dinosaur mascot costume, lurking right beneath his skin. If he could, he’d probably take the penalty that came with it. </p><p>The scoreboard reflected how hard everyone was playing, glaring down a pair of zeroes. Everyone was breathing hard, trying to get a mouthful of water, and tensely watching where Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and their coach all had their heads down over a clipboard. </p><p>Seungkwan didn’t like how their glances occasionally went to him, especially since Wonwoo hadn’t stopped frowning the entire conversation. </p><p>“Hey Kang! <i>Baekho</i>! We’re switching you out for Boo,” Seungcheol called. He beckoned Dongho over with a wave of his hand and then made the same gesture at Seungkwan. “Aron and JR, we’re going to switch in Hannie and Goose on defense.” </p><p>They were going for a play that relied on speed then. Baekho, Aron, and JR were some of their bigger players. The new lineup, with Jeonghan, and Joshua, was mostly smaller but faster, known for their synchronicity. Wonwoo would be the tallest of them by a decent margin, except Mingyu between the pipes.</p><p>Wonwoo looked like he might protest but Seungcheol slapped him on the shoulder and gave him a confident expression. They all knew that face by now. It was the one that wouldn’t tolerate any arguing. </p><p>Seungkwan didn’t feel better about it but he popped in his mouth guard and hit the ice. He was on left, Soonyoung on right, and Wonwoo in the center for the face off. His opposing center, number 10, was smaller but he didn’t look intimidated. From where he stood, Seungkwan thought he could even see a smirk. </p><p>This far in the game without any score on either side, running the risk of overtime, everyone was skating like their lives depended on it. Seungkwan barely managed not to freeze a few times, making assists back to Soonyoung and Wonwoo. Half of the time, he wasn’t even progressing forward, forced back into a middle defense. </p><p>The minutes of on-ice time trudged and flew by until the scoreboard counted down 2:37 left. A penalty had been called on NCT U’s left winger for high sticking but their d-men were still ferocious. </p><p>Soonyoung had barely gotten the puck into NCT’s offensive zone before the really tall one, Jung, checked him right into the boards. Seungkwan raced in to follow, realizing the puck was still in play. He flinched away from the feeling of a hit before he realized it was in his stick. Soonyoung had passed the puck to him. And with everyone gunning for them, shouting after the left wing, it left a clean line…</p><p>Seungkwan pulled back his stick and shot, spinning away with a move from his figure skating arsenal in time to avoid a check from the other defenseman, almost too preoccupied with self-preservation to follow through on his shot. His brain could barely register the way the puck sailed fast and clean over the goalie’s glove. </p><p>He scored. </p><p>Play froze as the referees came in. Over the sound of blood rushing through his ears, Seungkwan thought he heard them verify the goal but everything was a blur. It was like someone else was skating from the celly that Soonyoung dragged him into through the last minute of play in Seungkwan’s borrowed body, all the way until time was called. </p><p>- - - </p><p>“First assist, first freshman to score!” Mingyu declared, practically dragging Seungkwan over to his parents and sister, Minghao there with them. They were congratulating him with as much enthusiasm as if he were one of their own children. Their words were a mixture of Korean and English that his brain was too fried to translate but the feeling in his chest, of having proved himself, was universal. The gist of it, he figured, was that he’d been adopted. </p><p>Soonyoung and his own family were close behind and Seungkwan could feel his damp hair being swept back, his now-familiar snapback put in place like a crown. </p><p>“Gross, Kwon!” Mingyu slapped Soonyoung on the back and then Seungkwan again for good measure. “We haven’t showered up. That hat is gonna be rank!” </p><p>“<i>You’re</i> gonna be rank!” </p><p>“We already <i>are</i> rank!” </p><p>Mingyu’s mother cut in then. “Enough of the swearing words. I want a picture of you three.” </p><p>“Is there room in your picture for one more?” A new voice cut through all the overlapping conversation and all of the parents fell into a hush. Wonwoo stood there, his shoulders circled by an older man who bore an unmistakable resemblance to their center. He looked at his father, eyes narrowed like he wanted to say something but acquiesced when he nudged Wonwoo towards his teammates. </p><p>“I can take the picture for you,” Minghao added, plucking Mingyu’s phone out of his hoodie’s inner pocket. Everyone managed not to chirp Mingyu for the way his face went all soft at the touch. </p><p>They smiled in the direction of every camera and phone, dealing with a few minutes’ tumult before they were released back to the locker room to shower. Despite spoken invitations to various family dinners and an implied one for tonight’s Haus Party, Seungkwan begged off so that he could call his family while the hour was still decent in South Korea. </p><p>He stayed a long time in the shower, trying to clear his head and really process the whole night. And maybe he tried to spot clean his hat to avoid it getting too <i>rank</i>. Somewhere beneath all of the shock and confusion, a feeling of elation was bubbling up inside of him. Tonight was the first time he’d really felt like <i>he</i> was really a hockey player. With that goal, there was no denying it.</p><p>By the time he left, everyone else had already cleared out. Only Wonwoo was left, hanging out by the stadium door and texting someone. </p><p>Grinning, Seungkwan waved to get his attention again. “<i>That was a great game. You were amazing! And can you believe–</i>” </p><p>Wonwoo stood up, cutting him off. His expression was neutral but, somehow, it put ice in Seungkwan’s stomach. It was like he wanted to glare but there was something deeply painful in his eyes that kept it from being truly angry. </p><p>“Boo,” he said in English, voice flat. “You got a lucky shot.” </p><p>And just like that, the bubble in his chest burst. Seungkwan couldn’t even pull his head together in time to argue before Wonwoo left through the door.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ah man, here we are post-Reveals! </p><p><a href="https://www.checkpleasecomic.com/">Check Please!</a> is the inspiration for this fic and trust me when I say, all I'm doing is attempting to emulate greatness. </p><p>You can find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/seokpunpet">Twitter</a> and <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/seokpunpet">CuriousCat</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>